


Just a faggot

by orphan_account



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Choking, Drama, Gay, Incest, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Religion, Romance, Sex, Smut, Trauma, Violence, sallyface, salxtravis, travisxsal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23610127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: (please read warnings and tags before reading)I had this dream that I am hitting my dad with a baseball bat and he is screaming and crying for help, and maybe halfway through it has more to do with me killing him than it ever did protecting myself. And yeah hey dad, I know that no one is perfect, but I think you were pushing your luck.
Relationships: Sal Fisher/Travis Phelps
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	Just a faggot

“Hey, sodomites!” The drywall threatened to crack at the boy’s voice, filled with as much dread as the rest of the dank school. All that seemed to develop here was despair among students. There was a group that was an exception to this rule, however, and that made him angry. He couldn’t be happy, why should they be? “I know you hear me, flamers!” The tall, boney, knock-kneed boy would hollar. His dark skin contrasted greatly with the awful hair-frying blonde that somehow was thought to be natural. The church freak that would hand out pamphlets during lunch. The kid that got his pants yanked down in 6th grade, and donned the name “Tiny Travis” for however long he would continue to live his disgusting life. He was the strict Catholic son of Kenneth Phelps, who owned the town church.

“Ugh, it’s him again.” Ashley sighed.

“Shut the fuck up, church choir!” Larry hollered.

The group in question had learned to ignore the hatred that spewed from their classmate. All except one, who was more new to the school than his friends. One that maybe retained more hope than the others. “You can sit with me if you want to, Travis.” The blue haired angel that was Travis’s hope and savior more than any God he didn’t believe in could ever be. Sal Fisher.

Every day, there was a new scrape or bruise on Travis’s body. Sal could use deductive reasoning to understand what was going on. But Sal didn’t know the half of it. He spent a lot of time with Travis as time went on, often meeting him at coffee shops or inviting him to see his developing band’s shitty shows. It was just an excuse to get high and fuck around with friends, but they had fun, and that was all that mattered to them. Travis slowly became comfortable with the entire group. They didn’t necessarily accept him with open arms, but trusted Sal’s judgement enough to give him a chance.

It had been a slow process. A very tedious, strenuous process, Sal had now been going to Nockfell for 2 years, but Sal had managed to befriend the troubled boy, in a way. It was all hushed whispers and nasty blonde hair being yanked. The bluenette had Travis stuffed into the janitor’s closet, against a wall. The blonde huffed out a breathy grunt as Sal’s pelvic bone met his hips at every desperate hump, hard enough to knock him into the shelf and nearly spill bleach on them. The porcelain mask was on the floor, and Sal was just pressing himself against the other boy, kissing him roughly. This was a common occurance now, hooking up in the closet. It was ironic, really. This had been going on for about a month now, and they didn’t talk about this too much. 

“F-Fuck…” Travis moaned, head tilting back as kisses were pressed to his neck. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as a pale hand wrapped around his throat. His hips involuntarily rolled against Sal’s with a whine. This had generally been the extent to what they would do. Before long, both boys would cream their pants, and they’d leave. 

Sal was panting, his long blue hair, no longer in pigtails at this point in life, was spilling over his shoulders and tickling Travis’s neck. His painted black fingernails were digging into the blonde’s back, his other hand firmly on his throat, just like Travis liked. He would let off every now and again, heart palpitating at the sound of his gasping and moaning. A firm hand grasped Sal’s wrist, their unspoken signal of ‘stop’. Sal released the pressure, pulling away to look the flushed red boy in the eye. His gaze trailed down, and his question was answered. Today, a rather large wet spot had managed to show up on the front of Travis’s shorts. With a few more thrusts against the clothed boy, Sal had managed to finish off along with him. With quick breaths and a few sloppy kisses, they exited the closet.

The school day was over, and Travis had to walk home from school. Once again. 

It was dinnertime, and the small, broken family was gathered around the table. There were holes in the walls, broken doors, and busted out windows in this house, opposite of what one may think would be the home of a wealthy pastor. Dinners weren’t silent for the most part. Kenneth generally made conversation, as if nothing was ever wrong with the world. With their home. With anything.

“Is that a hickey, son?” Kenneth was in the middle of work while Travis and his mother were eating dinner. His mother choked on her mouthful, coughing quietly. A glare was sent to her by her husband, who didn’t enjoy such unladylike gestures. There were papers all over the kitchen table, with his father in the head chair. He had his reading glasses on, and a stern expression plastered on his face. Travis didn’t know what to say, he had never imagined himself to be in this situation. His jaw opened, then closed again. His chest felt hot, burning up into his throat. He clenched his fists, and spoke up. 

“Yes. They’re from my boyfriend.” His jaw immediately clenched tight in anticipation. The way that Kenneth’s face flushed bright red was something straight out of a horror movie. The veins in his neck seemed to stand at attention at his son’s statement. Travis’s mother stood up from the table, taking away Travis’s finished plate of food to go and wash the dishes. She always did this, if she didn’t see anything happen, it isn’t her responsibility to stop whatever her husband would do to their son. 

This again, Travis?” This is how it always went. Kenneth would start off painfully calm. “I thought you had...grown out of this. And now I see you acting on these… heinous urges.” His hands began twitching. Travis was going to get hit tonight. “You haven’t learned your lesson yet. I have been too easy on you.” Kenneth stood up. Travis almost instantly regretted his decision. He stood up as well, making a beeline for the door. He knew what was coming. Kenneth just chased after his boy. As he moved, his belt was being unbuckled. That sound was like a death sentence to Travis’s ears, and he ran with all his legs could. After careful avoidance of several obstacles, he lost it on a rug. He slipped, landing with a loud smack on the hardwood floor. Kenneth caught up to him, grabbing him by the sweater and lifting him up into the air. With one swift movement, Travis’s body was tossed to the corner. “Nancy! The Holy water and bible, now!”

Travis watched his mother obey. She brought the demanded items and handed them to her husband. “Mom...Please stop him…” Travis pleaded. His mother just walked away.

Kenneth laughed at this. “I will expel this demon from you, once and for all!”

And that’s when Travis dissociated. He always did during beatings, he had to escape the torment. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even remember getting beat at all. This time was different, however, because halfway through, Travis was back in the moment. He couldn’t even escape into his mind this time. He was being whipped repeatedly by the belt buckle now. He was sure he’d have long lasting scars on his bare back from this. When had his shirt come off?

Kenneth paused the beatings, catching his breath. Only after he stopped had Travis realized his father had been shouting bible verses at him. Travis just caught his breath in the calm moment. He stared at his shadow in the corner. Suddenly, there were two strong hands on Travis’s hips. His shorts were being yanked down. Travis gasped and squirmed. “No!” He shouted desperately. “Please, no!”

But Kenneth didn’t stop. They were now yanked to his knees, bare bottom exposed to the air. Kenneth began whipping him on his bare skin, over and over. Travis screamed, biting into his fist. This was bringing him back memories. “I bet you thought we’d never be here again.” His father hissed, stopping the lashings. “You’ve given me no choice.”

There was no turning back now, Travis was dedicated. “I’m a faggot! I love fucking boys!” Not that he had actually had sex with Sal yet, no. But he would like to. Kenneth did not like that one bit. He began unzipping his own pants, which caught Travis by surprise. “You want to fuck a boy this bad! Fine!”

“Not this, not again. Please, not again…” This was a more rare punishment, but one that he had experienced, nonetheless. Kenneth slid himself into Travis, who screamed loudly in return. Everything was wrong with this. Everything. Travis began sobbing. Usually he could contain his tears, but not with this. The pastor was relentless, the nasty sound of skin slapping together was deafening. It was dry and hard and painful. Travis should have been numb at this point, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t like the other students at his school, he was fucked up. Very fucked up.

Travis had drawn blood from his hand by the time his father was finished with him. He had bitten right through his own skin. Kenneth pushed his son to the side and got dressed. “Just think of what the others will do to you when they find out.” He threatened. “You like fucking your own father.” Travis was left feeling filthy, sinful. He was a disgrace. Who was so awful, that they deserved this? Only him, he supposed. He deserved every last bit of it. This what homosexuals do, he’d been told. Morals didn’t matter. They were all disgusting, would fuck any male creature possible. They weren’t limited by pedophillia or incest or species, it didn’t matter. This is what he was taught. He was disgusting.


End file.
